saying
you
made the pie?â
âYes, I... Sam showed me how andââ
His sudden smile startled her into silence. âIâm surprised,â he said. âAnd impressed.â
Winifred knew she was blushing. The distinctly odd expression in Zaneâs gray eyes confirmed it. Instantly she found it hard to breathe. He looked and looked at her without speaking until the flesh on her bare forearms formed tiny goose bumps.
âWinifred?â
âY-yes?â
Zane watched her eyes widen. They were like Celesteâs, yes, but a shade darker. And at this moment they looked...apprehensive.
âI owe you an apology.â
The morning air was already stifling, and the sun had scarcely cleared the mountains to the east. Perhaps that was why her cheeks were so pink. He loosened his shirt collar in the oppressive heat.
She looked down at the tablecloth, at the door leading to the kitchen, everywhere but at him. He held his breath until she spoke.
âI rather thought I owed
you
the apology. I had no right to...â She swallowed and looked up at him, her eyes shiny. âPerhaps a childâs place really is with her father.â
âPerhaps,â he suggested quickly, âwe should forgive each other and have breakfast.â
A beaming Sam slipped into the room, a platter of eggs and bacon in one hand, the coffeepot in the other. âHave biscuits, too,â he announced. âAnd jar of apricot jam from Missy Madsen. For ulcer, she say.â
âAh, yes.â Zane nodded. âSent her home yesterday to rest. Apparently she made jam instead. Sometimes I wonder what good a physicianâs advice is.â
Winifred continued to study him.
He saw that she was struggling to articulate the question in her eyes. âWhat is it, Winifred? What do you want to ask?â
She blinked and licked her lips. âHow do you know I want to ask anything?â
âI am a doctor. I was trained to read peopleâs eyes and facial expressions. Often they reveal more than heart rates or blood pressure, or even fevers.â
He wished she wouldnât run her tongue over her lips that way; something inside him flickered to life when she did it. Something he didnât want to think about.
God in heaven, every fiber of his being ached to hear Celesteâs voice, feel her warmth beside him at night. His brain could acknowledge that she was gone, but part of him still could not accept it. Maybe he never would.
The lazy morning heat pressed down on him. He didnât want to move; he just wanted to escape to someplace cool and green where he didnât have to think.
An idea popped into his brain. He discounted it immediately, then shook his head. Yes, why not?
Chapter Six
âW inifred, would you care to go swimming this afternoon?â
She frowned. He could see her hesitation, but the more he thought about it the more he thought it was a good idea. He knew she didnât like him and heâd hurt her feelings. He wanted to make it up to her in some way. He pressed on. âItâs beastly hot, and I have no duties at the hospital until evening. I often go to a place, we call it a âswimming holeâ out here, where the river widens into a pool, like a lagoon. I go there often in the summer, usually on horseback.â
âIâm afraid I have nothing proper to wear for riding. Or for swimming, either.â
âSam can find you something. Besides, no one else ever goes to this spot, so no one will see you.â
âNo one but you.â She sounded half tempted and half disapproving.
âI wonât look, I promise.â
âI do not believe you, Zane. But it is too tempting to escape this awful heat, so yes, letâs do go swimming.â
Zane held back a smile. Celesteâs older sister was more adventurous than Celeste had been. More open to trying new things, like baking a pie. And more tolerant of human error.
Or was she? He
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